Nightmare
by infinite shadow
Summary: Tag to Benders. Dean has a nightmare. 3rd and final chapter is up.
1. Chapter 1

**Nightmare**

A tag to Benders

By infinite shadow

Disclaimer: Supernatural and the characters do not belong to me, they belong to the WB et al. I promise to give them back to the WB as soon as I'm done with them.

Author's notes: Benders ended just a little too soon for me as I wanted a little more time with the brothers together at the end. Since the show didn't do it here is my take on what could of happened. I want to thank everyone who took the time to post kind feedback on my other stories. It feeds my muse and makes me want to write more. Thanks again to my friend lynxlan for the beta.

Dean leaned up against his beloved Impala outside the gates to the Lawrence municipal cemetery. Right now he would've given anything to not be here and off killing something evil with his brother by his side. The iron gates blurred with unshed tears and he jammed his hands in his pockets as he looked away from the gravestones nestled just behind the iron fence.

Glancing up at the gloomy sky he thought it was the only thing that was right with the day. His mood was dark, the day was dark and the world would never be right ever again.

Slowly he pushed himself off his car and began to walk into the cemetery. His vision swam again and he silently cursed his weakness. He put on his sunglasses to cover his red eyes that were slightly swollen from the few tears he'd allowed himself to shed in the dark motel room just before leaving.

This was a familiar place to him. The deep and sorrowful feelings that this place always brought out in him had always been reserved for his mom, and his mom only. Grief for his mom had been the only reason that he had been allowed to cry growing up. They were only type of tears his father wouldn't reprimand over when he was a child. After all demon hunters didn't cry over lacerations, bruises or broken bones his father had reasoned. Today that changed and this place would never be the same. He hung his head in shame as he knew the reason behind the change was his fault and his failure alone.

He walked thought the rows of plots, past tombstones of different sizes and designs. Dean paused and looked up at the stone angel like he had done countless times as a child. Dad had always said she looked sad, he'd always seen her as disappointed, and Sam had never commented. He had always been uncomfortable visiting here.

She was definitely disappointed in him just like he was disappointed in himself. It was his fault his baby brother was here and nothing would ever fix that. He'd gotten sloppy and Sammy had paid the ultimate price.

Taking a deep breath he continued on past more statues and grave markers that he hardly saw as he made his way to his destination. Movement caught his eye as a dark figure stepped out in front of him and Dean's sharp hunter skills pulled out his knife before he could think about it. The lone figure stepped forward out of the shadow to reveal his face.

"Dad?" Dean asked lowering the knife and putting it back in it's sheath.

"Your brother was supposed to be safe with you. Sam was always your responsibility. How could you be so careless? How could you just lose him like that?" John Winchester asked as a single tear tracked down his unshaven angry face. "How could you lose my baby?"

Dean looked away from the distraught stare of his father. "Dad I," he said and paused swallowing hard. "I'm sorry," he said knowing the words were inadequate for the pain and guilt he was drowning in.

John snorted. "Oh, you're sorry. Sure you are."

Dean lifted his gaze back up to his father surprised at the venom in the man's voice.

"You must be glad you're free of him? Free of the burden?" He asked disgusted. He shot his hand out grabbing Dean roughly by his neck, yanked him close and ripped off the offensive sunglasses.

"How could you lose him? He was the most important one. Sammy was the only one who was not expendable. He was the one who had to fight the fire demon when the time came," John exclaimed and loosened his grip.

Dean jerked away from his father and took a step back. "What are you talking about?" he asked. How could his father care about that when his baby brother was lying in a cold dark grave?

John shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. You killed your brother."

Dean felt sick inside because he knew his father was right. Sam had been his responsibility since the fire. His damn curiosity at a table full of trophies was enough for the Hillbillies from Hell to get the drop on him. He may as well of pulled the trigger on his brother himself. "I know," he whispered looking down at the ground.

John nodded and sighed heavily. "Then you understand that you have to join him."

Dean's head shot up. "What?"

John grabbed his son by the shoulders and started to pull him away.

"Dad! No, please," he begged as he tried to get out of his father's steel grip.

John dragged him over to the graves. Both men paled slightly at the beautifully carved Angel that marked his mother's grave. Next to Mary's angel marker was his brother's freshly covered grave. Runes were carved into the marker as were the words Samuel Winchester. Our Sammy. Beloved Son and Brother.

Dean's heart lurched in his chest and his legs threatened to give way on him. "Oh Sammy," he whispered and couldn't help the few tears that slipped down his cheeks.

John violently pulled him around and Dean sucked in a breath as he stood at the edge of an empty grave. The marker simply read Dean Winchester. There weren't even any dates on it.

"Dad please!" he pleaded. He didn't want to die, but didn't he deserve to die for letting his little brother down?

John roughly pulled his son back against his chest for a moment. "I need people around me who I can trust. People that I can rely on to follow my orders. I thought that was you, but now I see my mistake. Goodbye son," he said then shoved Dean away into the darkness of the grave.

"NO!" Dean screamed as he fell but he didn't hit a rocky dirt floor. He landed hard in a chair in an old house. The Bender house. Someone was tying his arms behind the chair.

Dean did his best to stop shaking and pull up his best tough guy act. He watched as the oldest Bender son walked away from him and out of the room. Pulling hard on the bonds, he did his best to break them, but they were too tight and too strong.

He heard laughing and looked up to see Bender senior walking back into the room holding something shiny in his hand. Dean paled as he recognized the blade the deranged hillbilly started waving back and fourth in front of him. He glared up at the man holding his favourite knife.

"It's a thing of beauty, isn't it son," he said as he waived the blade closer.

Dean felt fear build in him as he saw the blood coating part of the blade as some of it dripped onto the floor. The deranged man pulled the knife back slowly up to his nose and smelled the blood on the blade like one would flowers or a fine wine. He placed a finger under the blade and caught a drop of the blood on it. Smiling at Dean he brought his finger to his mouth and savored the coppery flavour of the blood.

"All the adrenaline just makes human tastier," he said. "Your brother tastes so sweet, and I'll bet you do too."

Dean's fear turned to anger. "I am going to kill you, I will kill you all!" he shouted at the filthy man standing in front of him.

Bender senior just looked down at him and let out a loud laugh. "Missy!"

"Yes Pa?" she said as she silently entered the room.

"Tell your brothers to come in here with their newest toy," he said not bothering to turn to look at her.

She smiled causing a chill to run down Dean's spine. "Yes Pa," she said then silently left the room.

"You hurt him and," Dean growled but was cut off.

"You'll do what boy? You've already failed him," Bender senior said shrugging.

Before Dean could give a response his attention shifted to the noise coming from the hallway. "Sammy!" he shouted.

The Bender boys brought in a struggling man covered in dirt and blood. The boys dropped their burden and the man fell to the floor. Bender senior kicked him in the ribs and Sam rolled onto his back with the momentum.

"Dean?" Sam said softly not moving.

Dean sucked in his breath at the state of his brother. Sam's face was a myriad of bruises, and cuts. His eyes had swollen shut from the beating he'd endured. His clothing was torn all over, his shirt was barely hanging off of his shoulders exposing most of his chest, sides and arms. They were covered in deep lacerations, bruising and stab wounds.

"Oh Sammy," Dean whispered then swallowed back the bile that started to rise in his throat.

Sam turned his head in the direction of his brother's voice. "Dean? I'm sorry. I tried to get away."

"S'ok Sam, I know you did," Dean said keeping his voice soft while his heart broke. He knew they weren't getting out of this one.

Dean saw the father nod his head at his boys in his peripheral vision. He looked up as the boys roughly pulled Sam up to his knees.

"No! Stop! Dean? Dean what's happening?" Sam asked the fear clear in his voice.

"It's gonna be ok Sammy. Everything's going to be ok," Dean said as he fought against his bonds making the rope bite into his wrists soaking his skin with blood. "No! Don't do this, please!"

"Dean?" Sam repeated his brother's name. "What's happening?"

The father stepped up behind Sam. "Pay attention boy. This will be you next," he said smiling and brought up his shotgun.

"No! I'll do anything please! Don't do this!" Dean begged.

Bender senior smiled. "You have lost this game son. But you've been the most interesting prey yet," he said and cocked the gun.

"No! Sammy! NO!" Dean screamed as he heard the gun shot ring out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam turned onto his side reaching out for the lamp on the table squinting in the bright light as it softly lit the room. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment.

"Sam," Dean mumbled and jerked in his sleep.

"Dean," Sam said loudly frowning as he could've sworn his brother flinched in his sleep. He pushed off the covers and moved over to his brother's bed. Dean continued to murmur in his sleep and Sam noticed that he was covered in sweat.

"NO!" Dean screamed as he bolted up in the motel room bed. He looked around the room frantically, his breath coming in shallow pain filled gasps, various wounds were throbbing and his shoulder felt like the brand was still burning into his flesh. Movement caught his eye and he saw Sam sitting on the bed next to him.

"You ok?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at him for a moment trying to decide if he was a ghost or not. "S-Sammy?" he asked his voice rough from sleep as he reached out a shaking hand. His hand met with solid flesh and he let out a choked sob. Suddenly Dean pulled Sam roughly to him. Sam stiffened for a second at the uncharacteristic behaviour then returned the embrace.

"Oh God Sammy. You were… And Dad…." he said his voice muffled in Sam's shirt. He started to shake violently.

"Hey it's ok. I'm here," Sam said softly not liking the heat that radiated off his brother's skin.

Dean's grip tightened almost painfully. "Sam I'm sorry. It's my fault you're dead. Dad will never forgive me," he said.

Sam sighed heavily and rubbed his brother's back. When would Dean stop treating him like he couldn't protect or look after himself. After all he had been in college for two years without incident, well almost. "Hey I'm not dead. I'm right here. None of this is your fault," he said noticing that the shaking was beginning to subside.

"But," Dean protested weakly into Sam's shoulder.

"Dad's not mad at you either," Sam said letting go as Dean released him from the painful hug, concerned that his brother's hand held a death grip on one of his arms.

"He's not? How would you know?" Dean asked doubtfully.

Sam took a good look at his brother. He didn't like the glassy look in his eyes and how pale he was in the soft light. "Dad called just before we got here. You weren't making much sense so I took the phone. He ordered me to tell him what was going on and I did."

Dean looked away. "Great."

Sam shook his head slightly. "Dean he's concerned about you. He said he wasn't that far away and could be here in a couple of hours."

Dean nodded and let go of his brother fully convinced now that his little brother was alive and sitting in front of him. "Sorry man," he said wiping at his eyes.

"You gonna tell me what the nightmare was about?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No," he said flatly. This was his demon and his demon alone. Sam was his responsibility, always had been and always would be. This little trip into Hillbilly Hell served to remind him that he could never be too careful when it came to his little brother.

He winced as a pain shot through his shoulder. Reaching up he touched his chest through his shirt and his hand came away sticky with blood.

Sam frowned at the red stain on his brother's fingers and helped Dean out of his shirt. He grimaced at the burn and looked up suddenly angry with his brother. "Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

Dean shrugged immediately regretting the action when fresh pain lanced through his shoulder. "You were safe. That's all I cared about and besides I cleaned and patched it myself," he said grabbing his shirt and triumphantly pulling out the blood soaked gauze.

"You stubborn son of a bitch! This should have been treated hours ago, properly. It could be infected," Sam said angrily to him then got up off the bed. He got two wet towels out of the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit off the dresser and sat back beside his brother.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"What," Sam snapped back bringing out antiseptic from the first aid kit.

"I meant what I said earlier," he said.

"Which part," Sam growled pulling out bandages and putting them beside the bottle of antiseptic.

"Don't get lost again," Dean said quietly.

Sam looked up sharply at his brother's tone and saw the fear in his eyes. His anger fell away quickly and he raised an eyebrow as he sighed. "It's not like I planned on it."

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Besides," Sam said grinning at his brother. "It took two men to take me and you got bested by a little girl."

Dean laughed. "Yeah. What a bitch she was," he said then sobered. "Thanks for the rescue Sammy."

"It's Sam, and you're not going to be thanking me in a minute," he said as he brought the damp towel towards Dean's chest.

The end.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightmare

Chapter 2 - Watching Over and Remembering

By infinite shadow

Disclaimer: The lovely Winchester Men all belong to the WB and are unfortunately not mine.

Author's notes: For the ones that asked for it here it is. The second chapter. This one is all Sam's point of view. Hope you like it cause there will be a third chapter following as soon as I can get it written.

Sam had finished treating his brother's wounds over two hours ago. Dean had fallen asleep almost right away, exhaustion from the wound and the long walk from the Bender's farm back to the police station where the Impala waited for them claiming him. He should have known then there was something wrong by the way Dean had been holding his arm. The quiet walk back to the station also should have told him that something was off. When they'd finished hunting Dean almost always had extra adrenaline or energy to spare and looked for an outlet. His older brother would fidget in the car, or play with his precious tapes or bug the life out of Sam. This time asking his older brother if he was alright had only gotten him the patented glare and a gruff I'm fine. He'd been stupid enough to let it go.

He tried to remember what happened before he woke up in the cell. Things were foggy but he remembered leaving the bar, checking out a noise that turned out to be a cat then going to get into the car. He remembered someone shouting and he'd turned to look thinking Dean had called out to him to go back into the bar for another round. Instead he'd seen two other men standing near the Impala and then . . . Nothing. He didn't know what happened after that.

There were two things he knew now. One - Dad was not going to be impressed with either of them and two - next time he would insist upon leaving the bar together when they were both ready to go.

Even though they were miles away now and safe his thoughts were still back at the farm, still locked away in that steel cage. He shivered slightly as he remembered waking up in the long cell that wouldn't let him stand up fully. His first thoughts went to Dean wondering if he was caged up as well. Looking around his surroundings he saw Jenkins instead. Jenkins. That man did not have to die. If he'd just listened to him when he told him that something was wrong to get back into his cage maybe the man would still be alive. Sam could still hear the man's scream rip through the quiet night and was sure he'd hear it for some time to come.

A large yawn escaped the young man. The memory of the cell and Jenkins was too close, too fresh and far too clear in his mind to allow sleep to claim him. The cop that had helped them in the end wasn't far from his thoughts either. He'd known when he'd left Kathleen standing over the sick hunter that she was going to kill him and he'd done nothing to stop her. Did that make him just as bad? Hadn't they hunted the Benders down like the Benders had hunted countless other's? Where was the line that said it was ok to kill that man, but not ok to kill Jenkins? Granted it had been sport to the Benders, but how different was sport to all consuming revenge?

Sam sighed deeply not happy at where his thoughts were going. There was nothing he could do about it now and there was a far more important reason that he wouldn't allow himself to sleep. He didn't know when Dean had been burned at the Bender's but he did know that it had taken them over three hours to get back to the motel and after a couple of hours of sleep Sam had cleaned and dressed his wound. But he knew it wasn't enough and he was afraid that infection was setting into the second degree burn.

Not wanting to wait any longer he reached out and turned on the lamp. The soft glow filled the room again as Sam pulled off his blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Stifling a yawn he looked over his brother. Dean was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he was shaking slightly.

Getting out of bed Sam grabbed the med kit, pulled out the sealed sterile gauze bandages and medical tape quietly putting them on the night stand. Then he went into the bathroom, doused a face cloth in cool water, wrung out most of the excess and returned to his brother. Sitting beside the older hunter Sam slowly pulled back the thin sheet that covered his brother's bare chest. Moving the amulet to the side he gently pulled away the damp and stained bandage that covered the burn. He tossed the used bandage into the small trash can near the bed and pressed the cool cloth against the burnt skin.

"What?" Dean moaned quietly as he flinched and opened his eyes. "Sammy?"

"Sorry. I know it hurts. I think it may be infected," Sam said softly

"Oh good. Cause if it's not I don't want to know what infected feels like," Dean said closing his eyes and leaning back against his pillows.

"I just put the cloth on it to cool it down. Can you give it a minute," Sam asked.

Dean nodded and shivered as he opened his eyes.

"Cold?" Sam asked.

"A little," Dean admitted.

Sam pulled the comforter up around his brother keeping it from the wound. His concern intensified a little when his brother didn't protest.

Staring at the ceiling Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "Why is it that our jobs are always so fucked up?"

Sam shook his head a slight smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know. Some people get a corner office with a secretary or carpel tunnel syndrome. We get demons and ghosts. Some days we get seriously messed up people. It's just how it goes sometimes and you need to just roll with it. I though the Wisconsin job would have taught you that."

Dean opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "Which one?" He asked frowning trying to place the vague reference.

"Black River Falls," Sam said a hint of a grin pulling on his lips.

"You were never to bring that up again. Ever," Dean said glaring at his brother then his expression softened. "You know I can deal with the demons, ghosts, banshees, shape shifters or wendigos. They make sense and I can understand why they do what they do and why we kill them. How can a person get that messed up. Why are people the worst things we have to face?"

"I don't know," Sam said and he really didn't. How could you explain hunting humans and cannibalism?

"Enough Sammy. Take the damn thing off," Dean said. There was no anger in his tone, just pain filled weariness.

"Yeah, ok," Sam said as he took off the cloth and took a moment to really check the burn.

"It's fine. Slap on another bandage so I can go back to sleep," Dean said around a yawn.

"I'm almost done," Sam said keeping his voice calm and soothing. It was hard as he didn't like what he saw. The wound was oozing, it was more swollen than before and he was sure that the smell coming from it wasn't good.

"Sam," Dean growled. His eyes were closed but Sam recognized the tone. His brother was exhausted and quickly losing patience.

"Just let me put on the gauze," Sam said. He tore open a large pack of sterile gauze and gently placed it over the wound. Sam winced slightly as Dean gasped and his eyes bolted open.

"Damnit Sam, that hurts! Where the hell were you when Dad was handing out the bedside manners?" Dean yelled.

"Easy. Man you got PMS or what?" Sam asked as he pulled a strip of medical tape from the dispenser. Granted it was usually something Dean would say to him, but it was the best he could do and concentrate on keeping his hands from shaking.

Dean nodded. "Yeah smart ass. That must be it."

Sam frowned at his handiwork as he finished securing the gauze around the wound as he thought he could feel his brother trembling slightly. "It's done, but don't go to sleep yet," he said not liking how warm his brother was.

"No sleep. Got it," Dean said as he closed his eyes.

Sam got up off the bed and went into the washroom. He took a moment to wash his hands and splash some cool water on his face. As dried his hands and face he could hear his brother moving around in his bed.

"Sammy?" Dean called out.

Sam frowned as he started to fill a glass with cool water. "Yeah?" His frown deepened as he didn't get an answer.

He shut off the water and went back into the room. Dean was sitting up in his bed staring at Sam's empty bed. "Sammy, don't go."

Sam looked over at him as he fished through the medical kit frowning slightly at the fear in his older brother's voice. "I'm not leaving," he said as he found the pain reliever and sat on the bed beside his brother again.

"But you left and I looked everywhere and I lost you again. I was honest with that cop and almost got arrested trying to get you back," Dean said grabbing his brother's arm pinning his brother with a desperate look. "Swear to me that you're not going anywhere Sammy."

Sam was a little taken aback at the vulnerability in his brother and he smiled slightly hoping to relieve some of his fears. "Look man like I told you at the bus depot. You're stuck with me," he said confidently hoping that if the smile didn't do it the tone would.

Dean held his little brothers confident gaze for a moment then released him looking away.

"You need to take these," Sam said slightly relieved that he couldn't see the panicked look on his brother's face anymore. He shook out two brown pills and put them into his brother's hand.

Dean frowned down at them.

"Take them, it'll help," Sam said quietly.

His brother looked at him for a moment with glassy eyes looking unsure then popped them into his mouth and washed them down with a few sips from the glass of water.

"Get some sleep," Sam said as he took the glass back and put it on the night stand.

"But Dad," Dean said his eyes half closed as he shifted back down into the bed's warmth.

"Could be here when you wake up. It's ok Dean. I'm here and I'll still be here when you wake up," Sam said carefully keeping his voice low and soothing.

"Kay," Dean mumbled. "Thanks Sammy."

Sam stayed beside his brother until he was sure he was sleeping. Then he turned off the light as he moved into his own bed.

Resting against the headboard of the bed under the cheap comforter he took solace in the only noise in the room. The sound of his older brother's rhythmic breathing had calmed him for years after nightmares and hunts. Often it was the only thing that would lull him into a peaceful slumber. Now it served to calm some of the thoughts rushing through his mind.

After all the fighting, anger and hurt feelings he was going to see his Dad again. There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he needed to hear, but mostly he was afraid. Afraid of what he would actually say to his Dad and what his Dad would say to him.

He remembered in vivid detail the fight that had ended with him ripping himself out of his family. Sam had been frustrated by the hunting, daily training and nomadic lifestyle. What was so wrong with normal anyway? He couldn't understand his Dad and brother's drive to rid the world of evil as they looked for his mom's killer. That was the problem. It was hard to avenge someone that you couldn't remember.

The last conversation between father and son rang clear in his ears.

"No Sam," John Winchester said. "You can't go. It's out of the question son."

"Dad I worked so hard for this! Why can't you let me go to school? Why can't you understand that I can't live this life you want me to live! I hate these motels, these demons and weapons! I hate hunting! If I don't see another container of rock salt it will be too soon!" Sam yelled swiping a conical container of rock salt off the table, which caught his acceptance letter from Stanford, tossing a piece of both worlds to the floor.

Sam watched the colour drain from his Dad's face where he sat at the table sharpening a knife on a whet stone. Slowly he stood up, leaving the tool and knife on the table, and took two steps towards his youngest son. In his peripheral vision he saw his older brother stand up from where he'd been lazing on the couch watching TV. Dean took a small step forward ready to get between them if need be.

"Listen up boy 'cause I am sick of your crap," John Winchester growled out as he clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly. "Either you stay with us and hunt with us or you are against us. If school is more important than your family then get out. Just know that if you walk out that door now don't ever come back. If you leave you are no longer welcome under my roof or entitled to my protection."

Sam stared at his father for what felt like an eternity. He broke eye contact as he reached down and grabbed his acceptance letter off the floor. Stuffing it into his bag already packed with his meager possessions he looked past his Dad to Dean as he straightened up. His brother was pale and even across the room his eyes were bright with fear. He looked torn at what his Dad had just said and what his little brother was going to do. Dean shook his head once pleading with him not to go.

"Bye Dean," he whispered and left.

Just like that he'd changed his life and his family's life. Dean was right. He really was a selfish bastard.

Sam was pulled out of his musings as Dean mumbled something in his sleep and shifted position.

How many times since he'd joined Dean on this quest had he said that he needed to find Dad? Every time the confident reply was don't worry we will, it'll take time but we'll find him.

Sam smiled slightly to himself. His older brother was the one thing he could truly count on growing up. His very own capeless super hero. Dean had never lied to him and he always came through for him. Whether it was the school yard bully on the playground, soothing away his fears after a nightmare or watching his back on a hunt Dean was always there.

Of course that also meant that he had to watch his own back when Dean got into prank mode. There was the Nair, the tattoo, and he'd even pee'd blue for days. He'd learned the hard way that an occupied teenage Dean was far safer than a bored teenage Dean.

Dean mumbled in his sleep again, moaning out loud and saying something about killing everyone. Sam glanced at the clock and saw that he'd been lost in his thoughts for a good hour.

Concerned he flicked on the light and got out of bed to check on his brother. He could feel the heat coming off of him before his hand touched his forehead. Sam quickly went and got cool cloths and went back to Dean. Gently he moved the first cloth over his face to wash away the sweat and left it on his forehead hoping to cool the fever that burned in him. Then he carefully placed the second cool cloth over the bandaged burn hoping his brother wouldn't wake. Dean didn't and Sam was somewhat relieved. He hated seeing the fearful panicked look that had been on his brother's face earlier that night when he thought Sam would leave him again. He moved back to his bed rubbing at his tired eyes and turned off the light.

It wasn't often that his brother showed fear, but he had a few times that Sam remembered. Sometimes when they were much younger and his brother was just old enough to start hunting with their Dad, Dean would have nightmares. He'd never call out in his sleep, but Sam would somehow feel his brother's fear, wake up and crawl into his bed. Sam was too young to really understand the demons that they battled, but he'd understood the night terrors and that was something he could comfort his brother from. He'd wrap his small arms around his brother tightly until Dean's heart would stop beating frantically. Nightmares were usually his thing, and he was glad that Dean's run with them hadn't lasted more than a few months.

Dean had only hurt Sam physically once. Dad had taught Dean a new fighting technique and expected Dean to teach Sam while he'd gone on a hunt. Sam was an awkward eleven year old and was having difficulty with the moves and keeping his balance. Sam hadn't blocked properly, putting Dean off balance making him lurch forward knocking both of them to the ground. Dean had landed on top of Sam pinning his hand behind his back making Sam cry out in pain. After Dean had figured out that the wrist was broken he'd rushed him to the hospital.

Almost as soon as his older brother had helped him into the emergency room Sam had been taken from Dean and put on a bed in a curtained off area. They'd taken off his shirt and Sam had caught the look between the doctor and nurse when they'd seen some of the bruising on his chest from the training they did. He began to worry as they'd already had a visit from child services in the last town they had lived in.

But all he could think about while they set his wrist was the look on his older brother's face. Fear. It was not something Sam had been used to seeing on his older and much more confident brother. Dean could do anything, hunt with his father and drive at the age of 15. The way his brother conducted himself made people believe he was much older than that.

He'd asked quietly for his older brother while they put a cast on his wrist trying to be brave and not to cry. The doctor had told him that he was not allowed in there and started asked him a lot of questions. How often did he get hurt like this? Was this the first time he'd broken a bone? Did his brother touch him in places that made him uncomfortable?

Suddenly he was extremely afraid, feeling strangely vulnerable without his brother by his side and was scared they would take him away from his family. As tears began to stream down his cheeks he started screaming Dean's name and suddenly his brother was there. The fear was gone from his face, gentle concern over his younger brother had replaced it and he'd calmed Sam. When the tears had stopped Sam wouldn't let go of him begging him not to leave him alone. Dean had glared at the doctor and nurse demanding to know what they had done to scare his brother.

The questions about being abused had stopped and Dean had sat on the bed with his arm over Sam's shoulders while the Doctor and Nurse finished putting the cast on his wrist. He talked a constant soothing conversation with his little brother and eventually Sam had started to drift towards sleep with his head resting on his brother's chest. Dean didn't stop talking until their Dad had come to take them home. Sam had never blamed Dean for breaking his wrist, but he knew his brother would never let himself forget

Sam thought about all the training they'd learned. The hand-to-hand, boxing, karate, bow and arrow, guns, knife fighting and tracking were just a few of the skills their Dad had given them. The hand-to-hand had come in handy one night on campus when he and Jess had been returning home late one night from a movie. Two punks had tried to hold them up for money, each having a rather large sharp knife. Sam hadn't been afraid, in fact his first thought had been I've had better blades and they had been blessed by priests.

A tiny gasp from Jess as her grip tightened on his hand had brought him to reality. He gently moved her behind him keeping the two men in front of him. One of them lunged and Sam had deflected the move. In less than two minutes it was over and the two punks ran from him empty handed. Sam had turned and smiled at Jess to let her know that things were ok, but her face told him that something was very wrong. He looked down to see what she was looking at and found that he'd been cut during the fight. There was no pain, and he hadn't felt the knife slice his arm when he was fighting, but he knew as soon as the adrenaline had worn off it would hurt to high heaven. He waived off her concern telling her it was just a scratch, gave her a deep passionate kiss and they headed quickly to their apartment on campus. His cut wasn't important, Jess was and she hadn't been touched by the punks. That was all that mattered.

A familiar sadness began to fill him. He missed her. She was gone and wouldn't be coming back. He knew that, understood that, but it didn't mean that he didn't ache for her still.

He was pulled from his wandering thoughts as a scraping sound came from the door. Sam recognized the sound, someone was picking the lock. A jerky movement in his peripheral vision told him that Dean was awake and was already grasping his blade. The bolt slipped and unlocked with a soft click. Slowly the door creaked open and a tall dark silhouetted figure stepped into the room.

Dean struggled into a sitting position. Sam got out of bed and put a hand on his good shoulder to stop him.

"Hey Dad," Sam said softly and gave Dean's shoulder a small squeeze hoping to loosen the tension gathering there. Then he reached over and turned on the light.

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Nightmare

Chapter 3 - John

By infinite shadow

Disclaimer: Nope, they still do not belong to me. As far as I know they still belong to the WB and that evil genius Kripke.

Author's notes: Nightmare was originally meant to be a one shot tag to the episode Benders and was written from Dean's POV. When I was asked for more I was surprised that people liked it that much. So I decided to make the second chapter from Sam's POV. Having made reference to their father coming to see them I decided that John needed a POV piece of his own. I kept the rating T for some questionable language.

I want to add that I don't see their father as evil, just extremely driven. His character has been written and acted so well that I understand what drives him, his decisions and why he does what he does. I just don't think he's the bad person that many make him out to be. I believe he has a strong love for his children and would do anything for them. If you don't like that then be forewarned, that's how I've written him.

Lastly I have made references to a situation that happened to the boys when they were younger with John's friend Joshua. They can be taken as generic references for now, however they will go with another story I am working on when Dean is 16 and Sam is 12. The story is not written yet, but it will be just as soon as I get a few other stories finished.

Still with me? Enjoy the story…

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John Winchester parked his truck on the street across from the motel. From here he could see the Impala parked outside one of the rooms and he knew his boys were there. He let out a sigh of relief. After talking with Sam on the phone he'd known that his boys were safe but he wouldn't let himself relax until now.

The message he had received earlier from Dean had left him chilled through to his very core. Sam was missing. He could hear the guilt and fear in his son's voice. Sam had always been Dean's responsibility, a responsibility that the older boy seemed to take on his own just after his new born baby brother had come home from the hospital. It was something that he and Mary had encouraged. After he'd lost his precious wife it was something that John had insisted upon.

His boys were safe. He should leave, now, before it was too late. Before the demon he hunted caught up to him and took all three of them on. John was in good form, but not able to take the demon on yet. There was too much he didn't know, too many questions unanswered to go into battle. His sons were too injured to be in any kind of fight, let alone this one.

Reaching out he started the truck and put it into gear, but his foot wouldn't come off the brake pedal. He looked one last time at the darkened motel window as if to say goodbye when the light switched on. John shut the car off, waited and wondered.

Suddenly he knew that Sam was looking after his older brother. A smile graced his stubble ladened face as he knew how much Dean would hate being mothered.

The smile quickly faded as the reason behind the mothering struck home. Dean had been hurt. Hurt enough to be somewhat delirious on the phone. The glue of their family had been ripped to pieces by a twisted hick.

Anger flashed through him and he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He'd trained his boys hard. He had to, it was the only way they would survive. But now he knew he'd failed them. The great John Winchester, demon hunter extraordinaire, had not taught his boys enough.

He'd trained them how to do exorcisms, battle all sorts of demons, how to read and speak Latin, and trained them in all things battle worthy. They knew hand-to-hand, karate, boxing, knife fighting, bow and arrow and how to handle all sorts of guns. Hell his oldest son could break down a gun and put it back together faster than he could without blinking an eye.

His boys could fit into any role: Doctor, Cop, FBI, Homeland Security and more. They could make believable fake ID's to back them up. They could hustle the best of them to get cash and Dean was the king of credit card scams.

But the one thing he hadn't done, what he'd never considered training and safe guarding them against were humans. Some sadistic, twisted, seriously fucked up piece of human flesh had hurt his sons.

John sighed heavily in the dark truck as the light went off in the room. His hand reached for the ignition and started the truck. Before he could even think about it he was steering the truck towards the room and parking by his old Impala.

Reaching over to the glove box he pulled open the door, took out his lock picking tools and closed up the glove box. He stared at the small leather pouch containing the tools that would get him to his boys.

He questioned himself once more. Maybe he should just bail now. Joshua had called him from Montana asking for his help. But a small part of him, the part that never took to being a soldier and remembered what it was like before Mary had died, needed him to stay. Joshua was a big boy and could look after himself for a little while. They were his boys. He needed to see with his own eyes that his boys were safe, and if they weren't safe, get them safe.

The decision made he knew this is where he needed to be. He got out of the truck and paused in front of the door. There was really no reason to pick the lock but if they had just started to settle into sleep he didn't want to wake them. He'd just check on them and get back on the road.

If they were awake, what would he say? He'd abandoned Dean while he'd been hunting in New Orleans. And Sam, the thought of his youngest son brought on a whole new conflict of emotions and the older hunter pushed them aside. They were his sons. Nothing should be keeping them apart. Nothing.

Lowering himself onto a knee he made quick work of the lock. He heard the soft click as the bolt slipped open. Standing up he grabbed the door knob, twisted and opened the door. It slowly swung open with a quiet groan. He took a deep breath, stepped forward and tensed as he sensed movement in the room.

"Hey Dad," Sam said softly and a light turned on.

There they were, his boys looking battle weary. Sam looked exhausted and bruised. Dean looked pale, bandaged and unwell.

"Stay back Sam," Dean warned. "I'll take him."

John looked at his oldest son in slight confusion. He had a knife in his hand and was struggling to get to his feet. Even in his condition he was still trying to protect his little brother.

Before John could respond Sam was around the bed and standing in front of Dean.

"Dean it's Dad. Trust me, you don't want to take him on in your condition. You'll lose bro," Sam said softly as he slowly took the knife away from his brother.

"But," Dean tried to protest now completely focused on Sam.

Sam shook his head. "Sit down before you fall down," he said exhaustion colouring his voice.

Dean blinked a couple of times before doing as Sam said.

Sam picked up the discarded washcloths off the motel carpet. He went into the bathroom and came back out with another cool cloth for the burn.

"Lean back against the head board," Sam said as he moved Dean's pillows to cushion his back.

John watched from just in front of the closed motel door, surprised that Dean didn't question or get mad at the attention.

"Don't bother Sammy. Just let me sleep," Dean said.

"You can sleep. I'll take it off in a little bit," Sam said as he gently placed the cool cloth over the burn.

Dean closed his eyes as Sam sat beside him and pulled up the blankets slightly higher around his brother.

"You want to tell me what's going on here Sam?" John asked.

Sam turned and looked over at his Dad. "Which part?" he asked shrugging.

John looked at his estranged son knowing that he meant it as a question and not a smart ass remark. "All of it," he said as he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

Sam took a deep breath, rested his arms on his knees and looked towards the floor. He slowly told his father everything he could remember up until he'd spoken with his Dad on the phone.

"What I didn't know was that he was burned. I should've known Dad. There were signs but I missed them. If I had known," Sam said.

"It's ok Sam," John said.

"No sir, it's not. I'm pretty sure infection is setting in," Sam said his voice wavering slightly. "If I'd known, if I'd treated it sooner."

"No. Don't do that to yourself son," John started to say but stopped as Sam's head came up sharply at the word son and John nearly flinched.

"We're supposed to look out for each other. Dad if I hadn't allowed myself to get jumped," Sam said so softly his voice was a harsh whisper.

"You let yourself get jumped on purpose?" John asked already knowing the answer.

Sam paused at the question. "No sir, but I shouldn't have let it happen."

"Still second guessing after the fact I see. What have I always told you about that?" John asked sternly, knowing how much his son hated this particular saying.

Sam grimaced slightly. "Hind sight is twenty/twenty. Learn from it and never get caught with your pants down again."

"That's right. Damn it's good to see you again Sam," John said softly and watched a sea of emotions flash across his son's face.

Sam broke eye contact and looked away.

"Sammy the last time we were together was pretty uncomfortable for both of us," John started.

"Yes sir," Sam whispered and suddenly stood up wishing desperately to get some control. He was too tired for this conversation. He wanted Dean to wake up and be better. He wanted to stop feeling like he was still trapped in that cage. He didn't want to cry in front of his father.

John got up and took a couple of steps forward a little concerned at his behaviour. "Sam?"

Sam raised his head and John could see the tears welling in the young man's eyes. He could tell that Sam was desperately trying to stay in control of his emotions but he was at the end of what he could take tonight. He raised a hand to put it on Sam's shoulder and was surprised when Sam launched himself into his arms.

"Dad," Sam said into his shoulder as the events from the farm and the last couple of months caught up to him.

The tone of his son's voice cut him straight to the quick. He tightly wrapped his arms around him and felt Sam's shaking increase. "It's ok son," he said softly, slightly surprised at his youngest son's actions.

When he'd come here tonight he'd expected another fight, not this. It was the kind of behaviour he frowned upon normally, but this wasn't a normal kind of situation, even for them. He held onto his son for a moment then loosened his hold.

"Sorry Dad," Sam said quietly stepping back and looking down at the floor.

John nodded. "You're exhausted. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Sam shook his head. "I can't. I have to watch over Dean."

"I'll watch over him," John said, and you he silently added. "Get some sleep."

Sam nodded and went back to his bed falling asleep before his head touched the pillow.

John sat at the table and watched over his boys for a while. He got up and took the washcloth off Dean's shoulder. Returning to the table he settled in and began to research the qualities of the demon that Joshua needed help with.

Three hours later John hadn't gotten very far with his research. He was considering calling Joshua for more information when Dean bolted up in bed looking around wildly. John sighed inwardly as he thought nightmares were Sam's specialty.

He wasn't prepared for the panicked look that took over Dean's face as his son saw him sitting at the table.

"Hey Dean," he said softly.

"Dad?" Dean asked. "Oh God, I'm sorry! Please believe me! I'm so sorry! I did everything I could and I didn't mean to lose him! I'm sorry he's dead."

John got up from the table and started to take a step forward. He paused as Dean struggled to get out from under the sheets.

"No! Dad please I swear I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I let him die. Please don't kill me," Dean pleaded sliding to the other side of the mattress away from his Dad.

"Kill you?" John repeated surprised that his oldest would think such a thing. He'd never threatened his son with killing him. There were the few times that he'd wanted to knock some sense into the boy, what parent of a teenager didn't want to do that at some point, but even then he'd never struck his oldest son. He'd never hit either of them, although he'd come close with Sam. The boy knew how to push the right buttons in the right order to make his temper flare to the extreme. It would take the last bit of clarity he had to grab his t-shirt or jacket with two clenched fists instead of lashing out and physically harming the boy. After all he knew how to kill both human, thanks to the military, and demons thanks to Pastor Jim. When Sam was a teenager some days he wasn't sure what his son was.

Sam woke hearing the panic in his brother's voice and struggled to get out of bed. Kicking off the sheets he went over to his brother.

"Dean? Hey I need you to focus here," Sam said in an even voice trying not to spook his brother further.

"Sam? I'm sorry! Please," Dean begged as he moved back a bit to the middle of the mattress. "Please don't haunt me!"

John would've laughed at those words if the situation wasn't so serious. He watched as Sam reached out to his older brother. Dean flinched back from the touch groaning as his shoulder hit the headboard. Undeterred Sam took a strong hold of Dean's hand and held it to his chest.

"Do you remember?" Sam asked holding his brother's hand firmly to his chest. "After Joshua's I had nightmares for a month thinking that you and Dad were dead. You held my hand to your chest so I could feel your heart beating to let me know you were alive. I'm alive and I'm here Dean."

"Sammy?" Dean said confusion clouding his voice. "What happened? How'd we get here?"

"It was a long walk from the farm. Partly through the bush, remember?" Sam asked.

Dean was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. You slipped and fell into some mud."

"Oh sure, that you remember," Sam said smiling slightly.

"Did Dad call?" Dean asked still trying to sort out some of his memories.

"Yeah," Sam said looking over to his Dad.

John sat on the other side of the bed. "Hey Dean," John said softly.

"Dad? When did you get here?" he asked.

"A little while ago. You've been pretty out of it," John said not liking the glassy look in his eyes. "Dean why did you think I would kill you?"

Dean swallowed and looked away. "I let them kill Sammy."

"Right here, remember?" Sam said slightly tightening his hold on his brother's hand.

Dean shook his head. "In a dream. We were at his grave and you said I had to join him cause I let him get taken. I let them kill him."

"Dean I'm not angry with you that Sam was missing. You know that, right?" John asked.

"Yes sir," came the automatic response.

John could see Dean's breathing increase and saw him start to shake slightly.

"Dean," he said waiting for his son to focus on him. "You need to calm down son. You have a fever from a burn you sustained in the field. Now I need you to be strong. You'll need all your wits about you to heal. Do you think you can do that?"

Dean studied his father for a moment and John could see some of the glassiness fade out of his eyes.

"Yes sir," Dean said.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," John said softly. "Now let's take a look at that wound."

Sam let go of his brother's hand as John gently peeled off the white gauze. As he examined the wound the bed shifted slightly and Sam left his field of vision. He returned a moment later with the first aid kit.

"I took out the bits of material I could find," Sam said softly. "But it doesn't look right."

"Actually it's doesn't look that bad. It's clean, and see here," John said pointing to the lower part of the burn. "The blistering is just beginning. That's a good sign."

John looked over at his youngest and saw the relief clear on his face. "You did good Sammy."

Dean looked between the two of them. "Uh as much as I enjoy flashing my chest around could you finish up?" Dean asked. "It's kinda cold."

Dean swallowed back a spike of fear that ran through him as his Dad looked at him and he wondered where it had come from. Even when his Dad had been mad at him for screwing something up he was never afraid of him.

"So I hear you let a child get the better of you," John said seriously.

"Wha - Sam!" Dean protested glaring at his younger brother.

Sam ducked his head to hide his smile.

"Have you forgotten everything I've taught you?" John asked sternly.

Dean looked at his father ready to defend himself but caught the twinkle in his eye and his relaxed posture. "Oh sure pick on the injured," Dean groused good naturedly.

"Are you staying Dad?" Sam asked.

"I can't Sam. Joshua needs my help and he's expecting me," John said. It was true but he wished he didn't have to go. "Listen as much as I would like to stay with you boys I can't. It's just too dangerous right now."

"You're tracking it, aren't you?" Sam asked.

"What?" John asked.

Sam looked at his brother then back to his Dad. "The Fire Demon."

"No Sam I'm not tracking it. I don't have enough information on it to track it. I have a few leads but that's all," John said softly. "But even tracking down those leads would be too dangerous for you and your brother to be around for."

"So Joshua's not helping you with it?" Dean asked.

"No he's not. I don't know what he's fighting but it's a nasty demon and more than he can handle on his own," John growled then paused hearing how harsh his voice was getting and sighed softening his tone a little. "Boys I'd like to stick around with you for a few days, but you know I owe Joshua."

Dean looked away knowing that he was the reason that his Dad owed Joshua.

"Son that night happened a long time ago. It was the right call to take us there and you know it," John said. "If you hadn't taken us to Joshua's that night I would have died from internal injuries and Lord knows what would have happened to you two."

Dean nodded.

"Can we help?" Sam asked. "I mean we're not exactly battle ready, but I could research for you or something."

John smiled at his youngest. "No son. This is my debt, one that I've waited a long time to pay."

Sam nodded.

"I can stay for another hour or so before I have to get back on the road," John offered not wanting to leave them so soon. "Sam could you put the coffee on?"

"Yes sir," Sam said with a hint of a smile.

John stayed for the next couple of hours talking and catching up with his sons. When he left it was done with a great deal of regret and much reluctance.

He hadn't told his boys everything. Missouri had told him when he was in Lawrence something big was brewing, something vast and evil. So evil that he would not be able to handle it alone. John had suspicions that the demon Joshua needed help with was associated to the fire demon and the battle Missouri had referenced would be starting soon. But the battle wouldn't be happening in the next couple of days or even weeks. That was something he was sure of.

As he left it was with the knowledge that his boys were safe. The physical and emotional wounds, both old and new, were well on their way to being healed. For now maybe that was enough until he could help deal with Joshua's demon andget back to his boys.

The End


End file.
